Mea culpa my child
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This elegy set in a trimester anapaest breaks the pattern at times when the memories filled with emotion rush. The last line of the quatrain is deliberately kept a foot shorter.
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Thou wert frail, frailer still was thy fate,
And had reasons to feel a bit riled,
Thy sad eyes must have looked out for me,
O my ill-fated child.
For I failed, be there to welcome thee,
Thou had too little time left to wait,
To be held in a father’s fond arms,
And left me rue my fate.
How it hurts not to hold thee to heart,
Nor welcome thee into my small world,
Let me offer this grief of a rose—
A bit frail, feeble, curled.
Now amidst a dark pile of sad thoughts
In a time-warped fast vanishing wave,
I am left to reflect how thy soul
Must have felt, till my grave.
Ye had come to our life long ago,
A bit wan, pallid infant so pale,
Even then cruel fate served a punch,
A gust turned to a gale!
As I hold out to thee this frail rose,
I do wonder wide-eyed, a bit wild,
Can a page turn in time to feel good?
No, my guilt’s piled my child.
To confess and admit to my guilt,
In my plight, having failed a dad’s due,
Let me wish thy new life rosy pink,
The wretched me whilst rue.
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Musings |03.05.2024| child, daughter, missing you, remember, rose, Elegy
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